The Fate of the Riverlands
by Dave Colton
Summary: Three companions happen into the city of Tomas Crossing and get thrown into an All Out war with an Eastern Cult. Can all three friends make it out alive?
1. Prologue

_So, I started another D&D story, but that one didn't quite work.. so I'm trying this. Based loosely off a campaign I'm playing now, so It should be updated regularly._

**Chapter 1**

They were a ragtag bunch, the three of them. They all had the hardened look of an adventurer and a look of 'Don't mess with me' in their eyes, one more so than the other two. As they strode into Tomas Crossing, the townsfolk stared. They never got many outsiders in this place, much less a Half- Orc and what looked like an Elf.

"They're staring," the Orc commented, his red eyes darting from one side of the street to the other. "I don't like it when people stare." His hand slowly moved towards the hilt of an axe at his hip. The Human to his right placed his hand ontop of the green, leathery flesh.

"Easy, Gargoren, easy. These are simple townsfolk. They will not harm you." The Human's voice was softer and seemed more in control, though his right hand still strayed close to the handle of his Morningstar. He had an air about him. 'Speak softly and carry a large stick' seemed to fit this man perfectly. "Pelor is watching over us today, my friend. We have nothing to fear." The Elf inclined his head to look at the other two.

"Pelor? Sstill going on about that falsse God of yourss?" His voice was like silk, but he hissed, something not quite Elven was plain for all to see. He pulled his hood down tighter, his eyes shifting from left to right. "He cannot hear you, Veloss. He'sss jusst an imaginary figure you Clericss envisioned to have ssomeone to pray to."

"You'd best mind your tone, Jaraiel," the Cleric spat, "especially when we need His help. You'll regret it if he forsakes you in your time of need." Jaraiel shrugged and looked straight forward.

"We Jaebrin have no Godss. No false information to muddle our mindss." He chuckled a bit, like air being let out of a balloon. "Perhapss that's why we're much better spell casterss than you Humanss." Gargoren's head swung to look at the short figure, his temper flaring.

"You shut your damn Fey mouth before I sew it shut for you." The Jaebrin looked taken aback, and the three walked on in silence for a moment before the familiar hissing laugh broke the tension.

"Well, if they didn't know we were outsiderss yet, they do now."

"No matter," Velos proclaimed. "We head for the castle. This mansion we've heard of sounds dangerous, and I want to know if the King has any information on it."


	2. The King's decision

_So, I like this chapter. The real meeting between us as the king was actually much shorter. It lasted about the time it'll take you to read the first three paragraphs. But that's OK. If I documented a D&D session, it wouldn't be as interesting, would it? Please R&R my D&D... sorry... terrible joke. But as always, constructive criticism is always welcome. _

**Chapter 2**

The castle rose high above them, turrets and towers seemingly splitting off of other turrets and towers. The sight was magnificent. As they approached the city gates, they were halted, the guards crossing their spears in the typical 'X' to signal the trio to stop. The guard on the left turned his head slightly, his eyes glancing from one to the next, lingering on Gargoren for a moment.

"Business," he asked, his body tensing at the sight of the Half-Orc's axe. Velos stepped forward, as was typical for them, the 'religious man' being a good stepping stone to get into a conversation.

"Pardon us, sirs, but we were just here to see the King about the Mansion not far outside town. We've heard there's been some commotion, and were hoping to help." Gargoren nodded and Jaraeil didn't move. "We'd only be a minute with your ruler. We know he's a busy man and can't be kept long." The guard hesitated and looked to the other, who merely shrugged. The first guard sighed and stepped forward, towards Gargoren.

"We'll let you in, but I'll need to take the—"

"Axe stays with me," the Orc grunted, his hand moving lightning quick to the hilt. The guard paused and nodded slowly.

"Fine, but any funny business and the guards in there will be—"

"All over me like an Orc on fresh meat," Gargoren finished. "Yeah, I know. It gets funnier every time I hear it," he said, quite sarcastically. Velos finally grabbed the Orc by the wrist and tugged like a mother scolding her child. The three walked forward, past the checkpoint and up the broad, sloping steps into the castle. Jaraiel slid his hand along the polished stone railing, admiring its craftsmanship. Velos led the three into the entrance hall where they were swamped by attendants eager to please. After jostling for positions, one finally stepped forward and bowed deeply to the three.

"How may I assist you, my masters?" He looked up form his stooped position, a broad, fake smile plastered to his face. Jarail, no stranger to using mock flattery, wondered how many times a day the man had to put up this charade, and chuckled to himself. The man's grin faltered slightly at the sound, but he kept it up, nonetheless. Velos smiled back and gestured the man to rise, which he did quite eagerly.

"We wish to see King Willheim, please," he said, his eyes wandering to another large staircase behind the attendants. The man nodded and gestured them to follow.

"This way, if you would, gentlemen." He walked quickly, as if to get rid of his burden faster, and indeed that was what he was doing. He led them up the staircase and halted at the two, large, stone doors at the top. He backed off to the side and bowed. "His Excellency King Willheim the Third is inside, gentlemen. Please, see yourselves in." He kept his head bowed as the door swung open, seemingly by its own accord. The trio entered, Velos leading the way.

The chamber was large, and well lit by the many gigantic windows on either side. The was one in the ceiling as well, at the far end, the sunlight streaming down onto a figure that, at the time, seemed miles away. There were guards posted along the walls at fifteen feet intervals, four on each side. At the far end sat the throne, higher than the rest of the chamber, resting on a plateau of sorts.

In the throne sat a Human man, smaller than what one would think of a King, his appearance less that regal and he looked slightly disheveled. His face was buried in his hands and he kept muttering something to himself, though what the sentence was, no one else could discern. He jumped as the door closed, and eyed the three, his eyes, like so many others, lingering on Gargoren.

"What do you three want," came the query, Willheim's voice echoing around the vast hall. "I haven't got all day, you know."

Velos stepped forward and kneeled. Jaraiel and Gargoren followed suit, though both slightly reluctantly.

"O Great and Noble King," Velos started, "we ask thee for information about a large house to the West of your kingdom. It is known to be haunted and full of riches, but we wished to know if you, in your infinite wisdom, knew any more."

Gargoren held in a laugh.

"Heaping it on a bit much," he whispered to Velos, who 'shushed' him.

Willheim stared at them for a moment while scratching his beard.

"Jarl," he cried, scaring the three. Another attendant rushed out from behind the throne to come to his King's age. He was a young boy, no older than fifteen. He and the king spoke briefly in hushed voices. Wilheim dismissed him with a wave of his hand and the boy went scuttling off behind the throne, back to his former spot.

"If I give you any information, you must promise to do something for me," Willheim said, leaning back in his seat.

"Anything, my King," Velos said, before the other two could answer. Willheim smiled.

"In that house is a weapon that was stolen from my family long ago," he stated. "I wish you to return it to me."

Velos nodded, though his looked puzzled.

"Is that all you have to give us, my lord? A 'weapon'? That could be anything. With all due respect, your Highness, do you have a more," he paused, searching for the right word, "detailed description?"

Willheim chuckled. It was odd, hearing him make that sound. Even those who had not served under him knew that.

"I believe," he began, his smile increasing, "I was right to trust you three to retrieve this weapon. Many would be on their way with no intention to return to my palace once they had raided those grounds."

Velos blushed, but then nodded.

"I am a man of Pelor, sir. My word is my bond."

"Then," Wilheim continued, "find the sword. At least that's what my father told me it was. It could be any manner of weapon, though it would most likely be a sword. You should know it when you see it."

Velos stood, seemingly eager to go, but he was pulled back to his knee by Gargoren.

"What information do you have for uss," Jaraiel queried.

"Many strange things roam the halls of that manor," Wilheim replied. "Some say things as harmless as spirits. Other claim ghosts wander the place. I've also heard tales of skeletal guards held in place by an evil curse protect the house they protected in life. What exactly resides there now, I cannot say. All I will say is this: Be wary in that place. Several parties have already trodden into that house searching for the sword. Only one member of any party survived. What he saw drove him to the brink of insanity."

Velos shuddered, though Gargoren chuckled to himself. Jaraiel's eyes were bright, as if the story interested him.

"What did he sspeak of, my Lord," the Fey asked. "Did he give sspecificss? Perhapss he sspoke of what lived there?" His voice was full of glee, as if the prospect of seeing something new, however dangerous it was, excited him.

"Death," the King said. That was all he gave. His tone was somber and sad. Something expected at a time like this. The hall was silent for a moment while the trio weighed their options. Go to the house and risk death or avoid it and lose any treasure held within. Finally Velos stood, a premature look of triumph adorning his features.

"We will find this sword and bring it it you, O Lord. We will head out on the morrow."


End file.
